My father died five years ago and this is the headstone which 
has been made for him and was finally laid last Friday. It is made from red granite and is adorned with hand carved love hearts and angels. It was chosen by my mother and sister Rosalind, whose own home is decorated with hearts, roses and cupids. It is certainly one of the most elaborate new headstones in the graveyard.
In fact, this graveyard in Wisbech, which I visited at the weekend, is lined by a row of council houses, and is destined to be my final resting place. It is the rougher end of town and not the most picturesque of locations, unlike other graveyards I have seen, overlooking rolling fields and meadows.
But after my father died, my mother and sister bought five adjoining plots in the cemetery for myself, presumably, and my two brothers. My final destiny has been decided for me.
When I visit the cemetery and see how many gravestones are woefully neglected, it makes me feel that cremation is the best option, and less hassle for those left behind.
What always staggers me is the number of young neighbours dad has, those killed tragically in road accidents or by cancer, as well as alcoholism. There is even a gypsy king nearby.
One thing is for sure, you have no say in who your neighbours will be when your body is committed to the ground. And, as my mother always points out, you cannot take your possessions with you, so what is the point in buying them. My father was addicted to auctions and spent a small fortune on buying all sorts of oddities, including a crocodile skin which my mother insisted he removed from the dining room wall - else she would go. It was not a hard choice for dad to make.
As he didn’t drink or smoke, my mother always indulged him. One of his final outings before he died from cancer of the bowel was to a village auction in Norfolk. He was doubled up in pain, and barely able to nod his head, but he loved them till the end.
I naturally hope it will be many years before I am laid to rest. I discussed this once with my son James and he said he would like to have a souvenir of me - my nose, of all things. Don’t you just love the things kids say…
If it is sooner rather than later, I am hoping he will find the courage to sing The Letter from the West End musical Billy Elliot, written by Billy’s deceased mother who writes a letter telling Billy how proud she is of him. It’s a real tear jerker. Needless to say, my little thespian son has a great voice and knows the whole show off by heart as he has sung it many, many times. We often play the cd in the car together.
Without wishing to sound morbid, my other funereal musical selections are Ava Maria, which always brings a lump to my throat, and Dancing Queen by Abba, because of the sheer joy I feel when I hear it. What a Wonderful World, by Louis Armstrong, would also be another favourite.
Am I alone in thinking this through, or have you thought that far ahead too?
Sports
Personality of the Year, with fellow boxer Ricky Hatton coming third.